


Papa's In The House

by MamaSpider



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Adoption, Bio dad comes to town, F/F, F/M, His mothers love him, Intersex, Jeremy is an empath, M/M, Michael is adopted, Michael's bio mom's a bitch, Mild Angst, No Beta, Projecting, Trans Christine, Trans Female Character, WARNING THERE WILL BE A HATE CRIME LATER IN THE STORY, but not until later sorry, expensive headphones, intersex!Christine Canigula, intersex!Michael Mell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-05-07 08:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14667354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaSpider/pseuds/MamaSpider
Summary: Michael thought he always knew where he came from. Adopted by Angela and Rose Mell, born from a teenage Palma Torres and a man who sadly passed away.Or did he?When Michael's biological father comes to visit, he brings a bubbly persona, stories of romance, and three half-siblings.Oh, and a custody battle. That too.





	1. A Rude Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela and Rose received news one day. It's a good month later, and it was time to tell their son the truth.

Michael sat on the edge of his bed, wondering exactly why his parents needed to talk to him at 4:25 in the morning. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and reached for his glasses. He missed, fingers hitting his nightstand. Well, nightstand was a bit generous. It was really his laundry basket, always plump full and able to hold Michael’s laptop, phone and glasses. He started patting around his clothes for his glasses and Angela handed them to him. He pushed them up onto his face and he saw the faces of his mothers go from blurry but visible to clear. He could see every wrinkle on their faces and the tiniest trace of dried tears on Rose’s chin. The darkness in their eyes made his stomach churn.

Rose was fiddling with her crunchy blonde locks, pulling and swirling them downwards. They usually framed her face nicely, the bleach looking more natural than Michael’s own jet black hair. Tonight they looked as if they were made of cardboard, dead and lifeless. Angela had on her pajama robe, the one Rose and Michael picked out for her. It was flowery and very, very hot pink. It nearly hurt to look at, but they got it after making a joke neither of them remember. She absolutely hated it, and only ever wore it to cheer Michael up or ask a huge, relationship-straining favor. Oh no.

“Mom? Mamá? What’s wrong?” He asked.

Angela sighed and took her wife’s hand in hers. Rose started blinking rapidly. Not a good sign. Michael reached out and wrapped his hand around his parents’. It completely enveloped their smaller hands in a warm embrace. Angela felt her heart sink just a bit. He used to be so small…

“Did someone die?” He felt his heart speed up, slamming against his chest. His mind immediately wandered to the worst case scenarios. Was it Abuela? Pappy? _Jeremy? ___

__

__Michael’s worries melted away as Angela carded her fingers through his hair. She squeezed out leftover gel and decided to save the conversation of his showering for another day. Rose shook her head. Michael sleepily leaned into his mother’s touch. His body begged him to lay back down and pass out. The sound of his mom’s voice brought him back from drifting off._ _

__

__“Hey, you know we love you, right Michael?” Rose asked, voice low and gravely._ _

__

__“Of course I do. Why? Did I say something?” He looked at Rose, then Angela._ _

__

__“No no, Mijo,” Angela assured him._ _

__

__An uncomfortable silence fell. Michael could feel his shirt begin to stick to him as his back began to sweat. He brought a thumb to his ear and fiddled with the plug. Angela and Rose stared into eachother's eyes, silently fighting over who would talk first. After a solid minute, Rose cleared her throat._ _

__

__“You know, um. When we adopted you, we brought your biological mother to America from the Philippines?” She asked, receiving a comforting squeeze from Angela._ _

__

__Michael nodded. He never really knew his Bio-mom, and his opinion of her was the same as her opinion on him: ‘You exist. Cool. Have fun with life.’ She would occasionally send money and ask for pictures of him, most likely for PR reasons. She was a model now, and she was prospering. But sometimes the tabloids would talk, and she needed a story to fall back on and proclaim innocence. Michael pretended not to care._ _

__

__“Yeah?” He shoved out his plug and pushed it back in, a nervous tick Jeremy gave him shit for._ _

__

__“And...you know how she said. Um. Your biological father was...um,” Angela pulled Rose close. They had prepared for this for a week. It was just as hard as they imagined._ _

__

__“He’s dead?” Michael finished, unsure of where this was going. Old news. There was nothing new to be learned. Why should he care? What was this about?_ _

__

__Angela and Rose nodded. Rose squeezed her wife’s hand three times, a sign that she needed a break. Angela squeezed back and ran a hand through her hair._ _

__

__“Well honey, she-” Angela had to take a breath. “-She lied to us.”_ _

__

__Michael leaned back and sucked in a breath. He didn’t say anything, prompting Rose to choke out a worried noise. Michael looked down at his knees and opened his mouth to say something before he was cut off by Angela’s voice._ _

__

__“He’s alive, and he wants to meet you.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short but sweet kick-off for this rollercoaster of emotions.  
> It'll come up later but Michael flat out denies being related to his bio-mom, who's pretty famous. She gets blasted for being a bad person but the she pulls the "Oooooh, but I was a poor lil teen mommy who had to GIVE UP her babyyyyyy, woe is meeeeeeee look at how CUTE he is, how could I have EVER let him gooooooo" act.
> 
> I have no beta for this, but I have only a tiny amount of fear in this fact!


	2. Sleepless Nights and Endless Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy comes over to comfort his best friend.
> 
> He ends up needing some help when Michael begins to feel wrong.

Michael didn’t sleep that night. Rose had called him in sick that day. It wasn’t completely a lie, as Jeremy found out when he came over after school. The thin young man entered the house without knocking, a usual occurrence. He went through the sick-day routine as he did many times before. Give a soft “Hey” to Angela, be handed a poptart, make a comment about today’s flavor, get a comeback, grab a cup, fill it with water, and head downstairs into the basement, past the main room and through the right-hand door into Michael’s room. Jeremy squeezed the glass a bit tighter as he saw the state of Michael, laying flush against his bed in the fetal position.

Michael’s eyes were bloodshot and dry, burned from the light on his phone. His face was pale and his hair was beyond bedhead, showing the sleepless hours he spent tossing and turning. He had bandages over his lip and eye moles, as he had started to pick at them and Rose didn’t want to deal with a ripped-out bloody mess. He was scrolling through his nearly-dead phone, and Jeremy knew immediately that it was the only thing keeping Michael from breaking down. 

Five minutes later, and he wasn’t much better. Now he was leaning against Jeremy, wrapped in a blanket and scrolling through a now plugged-in phone. Jeremy started rubbing his back after a long bout of silence. His mind kept going over the text Rose sent him, explaining the situation as best her shaking hands could. 

“Michael? Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

Michael whimpered and dropped his phone. He immediately started to burrow into Jeremy, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and wrapping his arms around the skinny boy. Jeremy reciprocated right away, patting Michael’s back and pressing his cheek against the dark, greasy locks. He shushed his best friend and started to rock, calming them both just a bit. The mental barrier Jeremy had set up broke away and he began feeling the pain radiating around the room.

“I know, Micah, I know. It’s hard to think about,” Jeremy kept his voice soft as Michael’s anxiety slapped him in the chest. He felt the waves of self-doubt, fear, anger and sadness soak into him, clinging like a tick. Michael’s emotions.

Jeremy had hated this “ability” as his Dad called it. He fed off and actually felt the emotions of those around him. Normally with Michael, he fed off the taller’s excitement and bubbly joy. But this time, Michael was sapping away at any positive energy Jeremy had left, and the twink didn’t do much to stop this assault on his senses. Jeremy couldn’t help but squeeze Michael tighter as his breath began to shake with every inhale.

“I’m sorry,” Came Michael’s muffled voice. 

“For what?” Jeremy held him tighter, slowing the rocking motions. Michael sniffled and held back tears. Jeremy found himself fighting off his own.

“I’m making you upset,”

Jeremy forced out a lighthearted laugh and gave Michael a punch in the side but didn’t deny it. Michael flinched and made a surprised noise before he weakly punched Jeremy back. Jeremy blinked the tears out of his eyes and chuckled. He grabbed Michael by the ears and pulled him close. Michael squeaked and grabbed Jeremy’s wrists.

“Jeremyyyyy,” Michael whined.

“Michaellllllll,” Jeremy shot back, shoving him away.

The two boys continued to giggle and whine, their playful shoves turning into a playfight. Michael grabbed Jeremy’s arms and quickly forced them together, creating a small slap and a fading red mark. Jeremy retaliated by jumping onto Michael, sending them both rolling away from the taller’s bed. Michael, newly freed from his blanket, held Jeremy in a headlock. Jeremy giggled and twisted, wrapping his legs into Michael’s and using them to escape. Michael chased after him, and the two continued to wrestle. They filled the room with pained squeaks and boyish chuckles. It ended with Jeremy on top of Michael, both laughing and tired out.

Jeremy sighed and hummed contently. He laid his head on Michael’s chest. Michael looked up at the ceiling, quickly fading back into his blurred thoughts. Jeremy felt Michael’s happiness drain away. He wrapped his arms around the taller as best he could in a tired hug. He needed some way to help his best friend. Say something, do something.

“Why would she lie? Is my father some kind of monster?” came a mumble.

Jeremy didn’t say anything. This wasn’t his department. He took a breath and cuddled Michael close. He offered his best friend a hand. Michael took it without hesitation and squeezed.

“God, Jeremy, he seems like such a nice guy.” Michael said.

Jeremy perked up. He looked at Michael and ran a thumb along his knuckles. 

“What do you mean?”

Michael made a face. He looked over to his phone and nearly got lost in thought. Jeremy’s weight kept him from zoning out.

“...I looked him up. Roger Zambrano. Two kids, a wife, stable job as a mental health professional. Fuck, Jeremy, he volunteers with Natural Disaster relief!” Michael grumbled and covered his face with his hands.

“Why can’t he just be like her? Why does he need to meet me?”

Jeremy let Michael rant. His chest ached and he felt drained. Michael was so confused, so alone in his feelings. It hurt. It hurt really bad. Jeremy nuzzled closer to Michael, trying to think happy, feel happy and send him the best vibes he could. Michael’s anger pushed it away.

“What if he wants to take me away? What if he wants me to call him _Dad _? What if he hates me for being-” Michael choked.__

__

__“...for _having _-...”___ _

___ _

___He closed his eyes and pressed his head into the ground, trying not to sob. The feeling that flooded Jeremy raised alarm bells. This most definitely was NOT his department. Jeremy quickly sat up and pulled out his phone. He dialed and started patting Michael’s cheek. Michael looked up at Jeremy, eyes wide and dull. He started zoning out, Jeremy pinching his cheek to snap him out of it._ _ _

___ _

___“Hey, I’m right here, Micah. Right here.” He assured him, putting the phone to his ear._ _ _

___ _

___Michael sat up and yanked Jeremy into a hug. Jeremy hugged back with no hesitation. He heard a click on the other line as Michael’s breath began to hitch._ _ _

___ _

___“Hello~?”_ _ _

___ _

___“Christine. Michael needs you, right now.” Jeremy started rubbing his best friend’s back._ _ _

___ _

___“I’m on my way.”_ _ _

\---

Christine hopped down the stairs, two bright yellow towels cradled in her arms. Her face screamed determination, sharp eyes, focused jaw, soft smile and confident brows. She wore a plaid dress and tight leggings. She gave Michael and Jeremy a determined look. The two boys were on the couch, cuddling. Jeremy gave Christine a smile and Michael nearly started crying again.

___****  
** ** _ _ _

“Christine-” He whimpered. Christine cut him off with a finger slicing through the air, as if she was slicing it.

“Nuh-uh-uh-uh! Emergency meeting! Jeremy!” She pointed at the skinny boy, who jolted at the sudden attention.

“Y-yes?” 

Jeremy yelped and slapped his hands over his face as Christine wrapped a towel around her waist, pulling down her pants with a single hand. She held her chin high. 

“Sorry, intersex only. Head upstairs pretty please,” 

Jeremy frantically nodded and peeked out from under his fingers, staring hardcore at the concrete floor. Michael moved off him and he stumbled away from the couch and towards the stairs. He ran as fast as he could up the steps, elbows flailing out. Michael heard the basement door shut and lock. He sniffled and stood up, still shaken up. He needed Christine and her bubbly optimism more that ever. His hatred for his biological mother was starting to quickly transfer into self-hatred. For his birth. For his body. 

Christine tossed the other towel at Michael, happily setting up the chairs. She sat down on hers, the one with the dent, and started removing her socks. Her towel draped over her lap and covered all the way to her knees. She offered Michael a soft and friendly smile and moved to slip off her undergarments. He smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Michael held the towel in his teeth and stood. He gripped the edge of his pants, fingers trembling.

**Why was I born like this?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!  
> The next chapter will have Christine and Michael's bottom parts. They are intersex, and I will be basing their club meeting much like my own support meetings. And yes, we take off our pants. Grow up, I need to vent.


	3. Emergency Meeting!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael gets his feelings off his chest. Christine loves him and lets him know. 
> 
> Jeremy stays upstairs.

Michael fiddled with the towel as he took another breath. He focused on the texture and found himself grounded. He looked up at Christine, feeling better, but still bad. Christine tilted her head and tapped her chin.

“And?” She prodded.

Michael sniffled and looked Christine in the eyes. It was important to them, to vent. Their support plan was vent, vent, comfort, problem solve, maybe look over each other’s junk if needed, and comfort-cuddle. It was never sexual, but nearly everyone who found out about these meetings thought otherwise. Only Jeremy and Michael’s moms really understood. Michael turned his attention back to Christine’s understanding gaze.

“And...I’m afraid that it makes me a freak. I’m afraid he’ll reject me if he finds out how I came out. But I almost...want him to. I don’t-” Michael’s breath started hitching.

Christine lightly shushed him and leaned forward, offering a hand. Michael took it and squeezed.

“I don’t know what I want. And it scares me.” He sniffled and wiped his face on his shirt.

“There we go. Don’t you feel at least a little bit clear in the head?” Christine’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

Michael smiled and nodded. He was so grateful to have Christine. He sucked in his lip and shook his head. He had one more thing to get off his chest. But it was for Jeremy, not Christine.

He let go of Christine and thumbed his towel. Christine took hers off and folded it neatly, feeling the bit of fear creeping up her spine melt as soon as Michael removed his own. Michael rolled the towel up and hung it over his shoulders. Both of them made eye contact before they slowly looked down at each other’s parts. They both remembered every single detail, but they still needed to see. They needed to know there was someone else just like them, with non-normal genitalia.

Christine was altered at birth to be a boy, but came out as trans before they could remove her uterus. She had bottom-surgery scars, all along her labia. She lacked lips, creating the ‘you were a child pornstar’ inside joke. There was what looked like a pale X where her growth used to be, and she unfortunately lacked a clitoris.

Michael had odd scars too, having also been altered at birth to be a boy. His penis was set lower than a cis male’s, and was much, much larger due to his regular testosterone shots. His internal ovary made it hard for him to get it up as it dumped estrogen into his body. You could still see a pale, scarred outline of where his vagina used to be. The removal of his half-formed uterus was more recent, age 11, and he unfortunately still had to deal with phantom period cramps. His lack of testicles was a point of shame for him, but he wasn’t wearing his prosthetics today.

The two finished up their look over, both feeling amazing. They weren’t freaks. Not when they were together.

Christine hummed a show tune and stood up. Her dark murky brown eyes seemed to sparkle as the joy of helping her not-brother-but-actually-probably-her-brother erupted in her chest.

“So, are you up for the usual? Or should we let Jeremy come back down?” She asked.

Michael stood up and slung the towel around. He folded up his chair and put it back in the corner. He pushed up his glasses and sat on the couch, using the towel as a seat cover. 

“Mamá’s gonna hound him about how school’s going, we have a few minutes,” He said.

Christine giggled and sat beside Michael, using her towel in a similar fashion. She pulled out her phone and leaned towards Michael. He mimicked her, both meeting in the middle. They held each other up like that, content. 

Michael noticed Christine’s phone and the yellow hue on the border of the app she was on. She typed fast, thumbs tapping wildly. Michael raised an eyebrow.

“You’re tweeting this, aren’t you?” He asked, amused.

“Uh-huh. Surprise meetings are fun, our followers always send us support.” She waved her finger in a circle before going back to typing. 

Michael shrugged and pulled out his own phone. He smiled and logged in to he and Christine’s shared twitter for their Intersex support club. Population: 2. Soon enough, a flood of positive comments came their way. 

Some were people telling “TheatreMama” she was an angel and deserved the world for being such a good friend. Most were buckets of love and support for “PudgyGamer”, wishing him luck in his trying time. The rest of the stragglers were hate comments, some calling Christine a confused man, some telling Michael he was too fat and needed to literally grow a pair, and the rest were ignorant hate that either claimed the two should’ve been aborted or that they should stop choosing to be intersex. These tweets were swiftly blocked and ignored.

Before long, twenty minutes had passed and Christine’s legs were in Michael’s lap as he manspread. They were both on their phones, giggling and sending one another memes. Michael perked up and looked at Christine. 

“Hey,” He flicked her thigh. “Maaaaybe we should call down Jer-bear.” 

Christine nodded and stood up, twirling. She smiled and pulled on her undies, following up with her bottoms. Michael fished for his boxers and gave up. He stood and found one of discarded prosthetics and latched it on, sliding on new boxers. Christine scooped up both towels and folded them together. She ran up the stairs to tell Jeremy she was decent. 

Michael smiled as she left, happy. He suddenly flinched as his phone buzzed. He dug for it and slipped on old sweatpants. Michael felt his blood run cold as he read the text. He started crying again, not breathing.

‘Is this Michael Mell? I’m Roger. Your mothers told me they explained everything. So, hello! I’m your father! I’d love to get to know you. If this is not Michael Mell, please let me know.’

Michael didn’t even feel Jeremy shake his shoulder. He dropped his phone and didn’t register it until the back of his head hit the basement floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-dun-duuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn  
> Rodger reached out! How well do you think Mikey's taking it? hahahahaha
> 
> Sorry for the shortness, I didn't want to pack it with too much plot incase people skipped this chapter.


	4. The Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger is Calling
> 
> Ring ring
> 
> Your Father is calling, Michael
> 
> Ring ring

Michael stared at his phone absentmindedly, waiting for the call. Angela held Michael in her lap, running her fingers through his hair. Rose was tapping her foot, trying and failing to knit. She was never particularly good at it, ends usually frayed with large holes in her scarves. Now it looked like someone took one large loop of yarn and had an army of cats attack it.

Angela jolted as Rose threw down her knitting needles and shouted, angry. Michael sat up completely and put his phone in his lap, worried. 

“Mom?”

Angela grabbed Michael’s shoulders tight, shutting him up. Angela was frustrated at Rose, lips tight.

“Rosita, what is the matter?” She asked, an edge to her tone.

Rose threw her hands up and leaned back in the armchair, flopping backwards. Her rosy cheeks only got redder, and she ground her teeth. Michael winced as her teeth made the sound of dry chalk on dryer chalkboard.

“Rose-”

“We never should’ve given him his number!” Rose shouted.

Michael leaned away from his mom, shoulders tense. His mamá rubbed his back and sighed. Her eyes were dark, chin stiff. She held her head high, looking at her wife with a loving but sturdy gaze.

“Rose, he has a right to know Michael.”

“No he doesn’t!” Rose stood up, stomping a foot and locking her knee in place. “He didn’t change diapers, he didn’t have any hard talks, he didn’t get thrown up on at one in the morning! He didn’t put up with anything we had to!”

“Rose! Where is all this coming from?” 

Michael slid out of his mamá’s lap, standing and walking over to the opposite end of the couch. He fidgeted, unsure of what to do with his hands. Should he stand still? Should he leave? He just stood with a rigid spine and watched, not sure if he should even pick a side.

“He’s made our son sick, faint, miss school, skip meals!”

“Rose, we discussed this. These were all possibilities!”

“He’s hurting my baby!”

Michael jolted, the buzzing of his phone overshadowed by his mamá’s gasp of shock and disgust. He bit his lip and slowly backed into the hall, avoiding the screaming voices of his mothers. He was so close to crying.

It was a short trip to the unused office, Michael making sure the door was shut. He gulped and looked at his phone screen, seeing Roger’s contact. Roger. His father. Maybe the half of his dna he wouldn’t ignore. He jolted when he realized it was the last ring, answering it and pressing the phone to his ear. He winced as he pinched his ear with it, but otherwise kept quiet.

“Hel-...Hello.” 

Was that too chipper? Was he supposed to be excited? Mad? Sad?

“Hello! Is this Michael Mell?”

The voice was far from what Michael expected. He sounded like Michael himself, but gruffer. Older. Mature. Michael wanted to slap himself. He stereotyped his own father.

“U-um. Yeah.” 

“I’m. Well, I suppose Roger for now. Are your mothers there?”

Michael swallowed. He could hear his mom and mamá screaming at each other, though muffled. He scrambled for something to say. Roger coughed after a significant silence. 

“...They can’t come to the phone.”

“Oh, is everything alright? We agreed for it to be a group discussion. Should I call back? What time works for you?”

Michael could feel his heart beating in his throat. It all hit him at once.

This was his father.

He used to wonder about his father just as much as his mother. Wanted to know what he was like. What he would’ve named him. If he would want him.

And right now, he was calling. He wanted to talk. Meet him. Wanted him.

His dad wanted him.

“N-no, it’s fine,” he took a breath, arms shaking.

“I...This is fine.”

There was a pause, followed by an unsure hum.

“Ah. Okay. If you’re sure.”

Michael grew nervous at the shuffling noises on the other line. He swallowed it down, not wanting to be a coward. This was his father. He needed to be tough. A good son.

"So, my name's Roger. And you're Michael," There was a happy breath, a small smile held behind it.

"So how old are you now?"

"I'm uh. 16."

"16? Wow. 16. You know, your sister's turning 14 this year. Just a few months, now,"

By now Michael had gotten in the old creaky chair, leaning back and wishing floors weren't so painful. He perked up, nervousness slowly ebbing away.

"Sister? I have a sister?"

"Two, actually. Mary Grace and Arlene. Mary Grace is the older one. Arlene just turned 12. You have a brother, too! And a stepmother." 

Michael smiled. A warmth filled his heart. Being an only child, it was nice, had its perks. He got spoiled. But it got lonely. Now he knew, he had siblings. Actual blood relatives. Would he meet them? Could he? Would Rose let him? How much were plane tickets? Maybe he could see them.

"Brother?" Michael asked, unable to hide the joy in his voice.

"Yes! Miguel. He's only 10, but he'll remind you he's turning 11 in June."

Michael couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. It wasn't too far off, it being February, but it was still cute. He wondered if all his siblings were cute. If they would like him.

If they were like him.

“So, do you have friends?”

Michael took a second to answer, brain frazzled. He had friends, sure, but they were all so new. He was still far from used to it. They seemed to mainly be mutuals anyway. When Jeremy came over, he brought Rich. Rich sometimes brought Jake. Who brought Brooke. Who brought Jenna, and Chloe, Christine. 

“Yeah, I have a friend named Jeremy. He’s been my friend for 12 years.”

“12 years? He must be an amazing friend,” Roger sounded happy.

Michael got a flashback to the first day Jeremy snubbed him. All the feelings came back. Sure, they made up. But Michael still tensed up whenever Jeremy started making plans that didn’t include him. Was he selfish? Rude? He shrugged it off. Best not spend all his father’s time spiraling.

“He’s the best friend I could ever have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the shortness
> 
> You'll get the big gay fight(tm) next chapter
> 
> (Plus mayyyybe some....shipping)


End file.
